


Close Encounter

by Salmonellagogo



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Bottom Dick Grayson, Casual Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Identity Porn, Jason doesn't really know what he's doing, M/M, No Aftercare, Under-negotiated Kink, Underage Drinking, under-negotiated knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-06 21:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20298358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmonellagogo/pseuds/Salmonellagogo
Summary: Dick was picked up by a young, beautiful stranger when he went to the club.For geckoholic, written as part of the JayDick Summer Exchange 2019.





	Close Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).

> For geckoholic. I'm sorry this may not be exactly what you want, but I hope you can enjoy this. 
> 
> Thanks a million to my super lovely and talented betas, Crookedspoon and Gavotteandgigue!  
Jason is 19 years old here, and being a naughty boy. He hasn't revealed his identity to the family. The truth is I just can’t get over [this](https://imgs.info/i/LpHBo) comic page.
> 
> Also, just to be safe, tw for something that can be read as dub-con near the end. Jason definitely does something stupid.

Blüdhaven was a shithole. She was Gotham's dirtier, grittier sister. Hard to love but it had the tendency to grow on you. Dick had become familiarly acquainted with the city's nooks and crannies, and had learned to appreciate the few good things he saw. Mostly the people. There were some that were bad news, but there were good people as well, and Dick stayed because of them, started to build a semblance of life there in spite of Blüdhaven's hard edges. 

Even then, there were times when he felt beaten down by her. When the costume and the mission felt impotent, and he was just a man trying to do the impossible. 

Dick went to the club to find distraction. He had not been in one in what felt like forever and he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, except maybe getting drunk until he was stupid enough that going home with a stranger became something he did. 

The low, pulsing hum of the bass hit him the moment he stepped through the door. The place was dimly lit, as most clubs tend to be. Purple and red strobe lights cut lines through the space, reflected in the glass of the drinks, the mirrors, and the gogo dancers’ holographic booty shorts.

Dick went straight to the bar. It was crowded, considering it was still early and a weeknight. Dick plopped himself in front of the bar counter, pushing a twenty dollar bill to get the bartender's attention. A twenty-something skinny girl with hair the color of a rainbow. 

He ordered a blue-colored martini, sweet and alcoholic, to start with. Something that, once upon a time, would have gotten him a ribbing from Donna and his fellow Titans. Dick licked the rim of the glass, feeling the entire extent of his bruised side hurting. His left side had borne the brunt of the impact when he had been thrown against a pile of crates. The cherry on top, however, had been that a couple of the perps heavily involved in the drug trafficking business were cops. One of them had a two-year old baby girl that had given Dick the nickname Uncle D when she visited the precinct with her mom. 

Dick polished off his drink and waved the bartender for another one. 

He was two drinks in, watching the pretty mixologist preparing his third when someone slid into the space beside him. Dick noticed the red wristwatch first, the elegant hands resting on the bar top. Then, flicking his eyes to the bronze mirror installed at the back of the bar, he saw a young, good-looking face. 

"Hey, handsome," the guy said, prompting Dick to look him in the face instead of using the mirror. "Buy me a drink?"

Dick raised his brows. He took in the guy. Blue eyes, dark hair, taller than Dick by at least a couple inches. His lean body hugged by soft, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. His angular jawline didn't help the fact that his face looked painfully young. 

"How old are you?" Dick asked. 

A smirk pulled the guy's lips to one side. "Old enough to drink. Should I show you my ID?"

Dick tapped his index finger on the bar, considering his retort. It wouldn't be the first time a snot-nosed kid faked an ID to get into clubs. He shook his head. Before he could reply, however, the bartender put his drink down in front of Dick. 

"_Sweet. _" The guy plucked Dick's Old Fashioned from the bar top, tipping it to his lips. It was meant to be sipped, but when the guy lowered the lowball glass again, it was empty. 

Christ. 

"You're bold." Dick propped his chin up with one hand.

"Don't I know it," they guy said, tilting his head. “I’m Peter.”

“Hi, Peter.” If the guy wanted to play a game, Dick could play one, too. 

Peter scoffed. “Jesus. Okay, then. See you around, handsome.”

Dick shrugged, offered him a lopsided smile. Peter rolled his eyes, taking a step back. He brushed past Dick’s shoulder as he left, a warm, brief touch followed by a whiff of cigarette smell. Dick couldn’t help but followed Peter’s back with his eyes until the crowd swallowed him. 

Then, he raised his hand to the bartender again. She looked amused, and Dick tipped her generously for not making fun of him. 

***

Later, Dick was finally drawn to the dance floor. He was accosted by a tall guy. Wide shoulders, arms the size of a football player's, and the way he held Dick, big palms spanning his sides, pulling him in, Dick was very much into it. He wasn't drunk. Far from it. But the ambient lighting, the music and the crowd, turned the man in front of him into a charming wet dream. 

"You're gorgeous," the man whispered to his ear, dragging his lips to Dick's temple. 

Dick was feeling hot. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead and the back of his shirt was starting to stick against his back. He licked his lips. "Come here." 

The guy followed the pull of Dick's hands on his nape, sweeping down to catch Dick's mouth in a kiss. The front of his body was plastered to Dick's. Dick could taste something that might be strawberry lip balm. He licked the seam of the guy’s lips, before delving inside.

It was a good kiss. Dick was beginning to get lost in it when someone tapped his back. He ignored it the first time, because he was kissing a guy in public, in close proximity with another hundred humans who might be doing the same. Someone bumping into him wasn't a big deal. 

But, clearly it was deliberate when the tap moved to his shoulder. Dick broke the kiss, turning his face to see who it was. A hand grasped his chin, another braced his shoulder, pushing and pulling until he's forced to turn his entire body. 

Then, someone's wet mouth met his. 

The kiss was aggressive. Teeth bit into his lower lip, leaving stinging pain at its wake, only to be soothed by warm tongue. The hand was steady on his jaw, preventing him from going anywhere. Dick was, admittedly, a little bit turned on, which was worrying because a _ stranger _ was kissing him. 

Still, it took him thirty seconds too long to push the person away. And, as he did so, the face resolved into a familiar one. Flushed cheeks, lips shiny with spit, eyes dark, and their owner looking even more striking because of it. 

"Peter?" Dick nearly gasped. 

"You remember. I'm _ flattered_." Peter ran his thumb over Dick's jaw, tracing it down to the back of Dick's neck, then let his hand stay there. 

No retort was forming inside Dick's head. Peter smirked. His caress a distracting sensation at Dicks nape, fingers rough. A working man's hand, but Dick was clearly in over his head, because Peter was barely a man yet. 

He licked his lower lip, noticing Peter’s eyes following the movement.

And Dick finally gained the sense to recall the person he was with before Peter’s interruption. One look behind himself confirmed that the man had moved on. There was no trace of him along the press of bodies.

Dick cursed under his breath.

"Oh, that one?” Peter raised his other hand to frame the side of Dick’s face, encouraging Dick to face him again. “Pretty boy, you can do better than that. That one has a wife and a kid waiting for him at home.”

“Christ,” Dick muttered. He had to look up to meet Peter’s eyes. “How do you know that kind of shit?” 

Peter raised one of his brows. “Please. Everyone knows. Hank is a cheater and not even gay outside the walls of this club. I just saved your ass from trouble.”

Dick scoffed. “How do I even know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.” And the smirk was back. 

The audacity of this boy. Dick snorted despite himself, amusement welling up inside him, and once again Dick asked him, “How old are you?”

“Old enough to fuck.”

"Tell me.”

“I’m twenty-one. That what you wanna hear?”

Dick shook his head. He took step back and turned. He elbowed his way off of the dance floor, bodies parting on either side to make way. All the while, he could hear Peter’s voice calling from behind him, shouting to be heard above the music. 

He finally caught up to Dick after they were free from the pressing crowd, near the back of the club. He grabbed Dick’s elbow and Dick had to dial down his reaction, stopping his body from performing a takedown so instinctive to him if someone grabbed him like this during patrol. 

He let Peter stall him. 

“Nineteen,” Peter said. “And that’s the truth.”

Dick looked at him, studied him again, more closely this time. Blue eyes almost black in the dim lighting. And there was a tiny scar on Peter’s face, by the side of his brow. His face was familiar, but Dick couldn’t place it. It was like he’d seen the kid before and couldn’t remember where or when.

And he knew he was about to make what might become a big mistake when Peter pushed him and he went with it.

His back collided with the wall. Rough, naked concrete dug into the skin of Dick’s elbows. Peter loomed over him, placed his hands on both sides of Dick’s hips, nosing the line of Dick’s jaw. The heat of his body, the warmth and moisture of his breath, all were palpable against Dick’s skin. 

“Okay?” Peter kissed the hinge of Dick’s jaw.

And god, a nineteen-year-old shouldn’t have been able to corner a man five years older than him and made him weak in the knees. Dick took a steadying breath, grabbed the corner of Peter’s t-shirt for something to hold. He might not be as sober as he’d thought for even considering this. What he liked—or what Donna had loved to say was his daddy issues clouding his judgement—was older men. Big, and able to hold him down, make him lose control. And even with Kori, Dick hadn’t been ashamed to admit who was taking the rein.

But this was a one-off. He didn’t have to see Peter again after this, and Dick did come to the club looking for distraction, and Peter was… very distracting.

“If I said I don’t fuck men under twenty….”

“Then you would be lying,” Peter said. 

Dick groaned. That was it. The kid’s fucking confidence was his downfall. He pulled Peter in for a kiss.

***

They moved it to the men's room, as Dick had predicted one of the scenarios on how that night would end. Dick chose the corner stall, trying to ignore the grime discoloring the tiled wall. The space was cramped, but just enough for the two of them. Dick pushed Peter against the wall the moment the door was locked. 

Peter's lips were soft, the give a delicious contrast to the surprising hardness of his body. He looked slim, but clearly, it was deceiving. Dick broke the kiss, long enough to slip his hand under the front of Peter's t-shirt, lifting it up to reveal abs like a cut diamond. 

"Like what you see?" Peter grinned, placing his hand on top of Dick's, guiding it to slide up his stomach. 

Dick's mouth dried. Peter slid their hands up, and up, his skin warm under Dick's hand. There were scars on Peter's body. A long, raised bump along his side, indication of a deep cut healed improperly. A white slash just under his pectoral. And a number of other tiny cuts. 

Peter had lived a life. Probably not an easy one. And Dick leaned in to kiss the side of Peter's lips at the thought. Peter tilted his head, turning it into a full kiss, slotting his mouth with Dick's. His tongue came out to lick Dick's lips, delving into Dick's mouth at the slightest opening. 

Peter was a good kisser. The way he explored Dick's mouth, the bite he gave Dick's lips, all seemingly focused on one goal, to make Dick's blood sing and his cock slowly fill. 

Dick's hand continued to explore Peter's body. His t-shirt was halfway up his torso now, and Dick felt something as his hand traveled to the upper side of Peter's pectorals, past the nipples that Dick had been teasing to draw a noise out of Peter.

Peter was still kissing him like their lives depended on it. Distractedly, Dick ran his finger over the thing, a strap, a harness. Peter caught his hand.

Dick leaned back, breaking their kiss. There was a K-bar strapped to Peter’s chest. Something that had somehow gone past the club security’s inspection, though Dick honestly wasn’t too surprised. 

“Are you part of a gang?” Dick thumbed the edge of Peter’s scar, the ugly bump at his side. 

Peter squeezed Dick’s hand that was still caught in his. “I can answer. But then I have to kill you. That would be a shame.”

Dick was one hundred percent sure the answer would be yes. That was the kind of thing someone Peter's age could easily get sucked into in this city. And Dick’s mind went again to the bruises on his own body. Blüdhaven had given him those too, swallowed him up and spit him out whole. 

Peter let go of Dick’s hand, and tilted up Dick’s chin with his index finger. “Come on, pretty boy. Time to be on your knees." 

Dick drew in a sharp breath. There was a glint in Peter’s eyes. A pair of blue-green eyes that were entirely too perceptive. He leaned in to softly kiss Dick on the lips. A palm hot as molten lava enveloped Dick's throat, squeezing lightly before moving to the nape of Dick's neck and pushed. 

Dick went with it. Down, _ down_, until his knees hit the floor of the dirty bathroom stall. Then he was faced with the reality of this boy—this _ man_. Peter, who smelled like cigarettes and sweat, like musk this close to his groin. 

Peter was hard—or on the way, judging by the bulge in his jeans. Dick looked up. Peter was an offering, like a Grecian deity and Dick his worshipper on his knees. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth red and swollen, his torso bared to the air, scarred and beautiful. 

Christ. 

Dick licked his lips. The tightening of the skin on his scalp made him gasp when Peter grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. 

"I've wanted this, the moment I saw you," Peter said. 

Dick keened, nearly inaudible. "You can have it." 

"Yes," Peter said. He pulled down his zipper. The sound went straight to Dick's cock. "You know what to do, baby."

Dick's brain was shutting down. Peter was hitting all the right notes, the pain in his scalp only aiding Dick into reaching that calm he'd so longed for. Dick leaned in, prompted by Peter's tug to make it through the few tempting inches, until his nose slid through the folds of denim and bumped into the bulge inside Peter's briefs. The zipper was scratching Dick's cheeks, but with the explosion of musk and saltiness as Dick drew his tongue out, he could only utter an embarrassingly broken moan. 

“Come on, look at me,” Peter said, his own voice growing raspy. 

Dick glanced up once more, into that young face. Peter would be the death of him. The little lopsided smirk, the way his cheeks flushed and his rough thumb caressed the side of Dick’s face. Dick let his tongue out again, giving little kitten licks, and his hands found their way to Peter’s hips. 

Peter laughed, almost cruelly, even as he pushed on Dick’s head and obscenely ground his hips against Dick’s nose and lips. “That’s right. Take me out.”

Dick obeyed him. His fingers moved to peel down Peter’s jeans, along with his red boxer briefs, midway down his thighs. Dick’s own pants were getting too tight. The heat of that pulsing, stiff cock pushed against Dick’s face again, and he let out a whimper so pathetic he couldn’t recognize it as his own. Dick wanted this man, more than anything right then, and he’d crawl to get a taste of that dick.

“What’s your name, baby?” Peter asked. He tugged Dick's hair when Dick didn't respond, and he repeated the question as Dick's eyes met his again. 

Dick's brain grinded to a halt. He hadn't told Peter his name yet all night. He hadn't planned to fuck Peter, but that plan had sailed out the window as quickly as Dick's self-control was crumbling right now. "G-Grayson," Dick said. "You can call me Grayson." 

"Right, then, Grayson," Peter said. "Open up." 

He pressed his thumb to Dick's lower lip, pushed his mouth open, and then, with a chuckle, Peter guided his cock into Dick's mouth. Dick fluttered his eyes close at the first taste of saltiness. The smell grew in intensity as he took a deep breath, and he moaned, closing his mouth on the head of Peter's cock and sucked. 

"Yesss," Peter said, dragging the syllable. He wound his fingers more tightly around Dick's hair, holding him in a steel-like grip, pressing his cock deeper, halfway in now, teasing at Dick's gag reflex. "Hands on your knees." 

Dick couldn't have done anything but comply, both hands coming down to fist at his knees. His legs were getting sore, and Dick knew he'd fall the moment he tried to stand too fast from the lack of circulation. 

"Good. Stay that way." Peter dragged his warm dick up and down Dick's tongue. Salty precum coated the inside of his mouth and Dick's cock twitched, though he made no move to release the tension, sweaty hands staying where they were. 

Peter caressed his cheek, feeling the bump he made with his cock from the outside. "Can you take more?" 

Dick moaned, mouth too full to speak. He nodded. He'd take anything Peter gave him. Without warning, Peter drove in, bracing Dick's head with his hand. Dick couldn't escape. Saliva dripped down to his chin, his throat making room for the invasion as he desperately tried to fight the gag reflex. The pain of Peter's grip on his hair helped to ground him in the moment. 

Dick's face felt hot. Tears trickled out from the edges of his eyes. Dick didn't know how long it lasted, Peter pumping in and out of his throat. He knew what kind of state his underwear must be in. His dick was leaking precum within the confines of his pants, begging for touch, for anything, but finding no relieve. 

When Peter finally released his head, dick slipping out of his mouth, Dick keened. A line of spit connected the head of Peter's cock to his mouth. Peter pushed his thumb against Dick's sore lips, swiping them roughly, breaking the line of spit. 

"Gorgeous cockslut," Peter said. "Get up for me." 

Dick took a deep, steadying breath. Shame burned his cheeks, and he followed the motion when Peter grabbed him under his armpits, helping him to stand. His legs were, as he’d predicted, as steady as Jell-O. He held on to Peter, stumbling against the guy, nosing the underside of Peter's jaw and letting out a low, mewling sound. 

"Fuck." Peter tilted his head down. He angled Dick's jaw with his hand, to catch Dick's mouth in a deep kiss. Welcoming the intrusion, Dick sucked on on Peter’s tongue. The way Peter was holding onto his side fired a sharp pain through his synapses, his bruises making themselves known again, but even that, at this point, only served to turn him on more. 

“Fuck me,” Dick said. His voice was unrecognizable, as wrecked as he was feeling.

“Damnit, Grayson.” Peter twisted their position, switching so that this time, Dick was the one leaning on the wall. His front collided painfully against the tiles. His gaze zoomed in on the dirty grout but he couldn’t be bothered by them. Not when Peter followed his movement by latching his wet mouth to the back of Dick’s neck.

He suckled the skin there, toying with it between his teeth, then soothing it with his tongue. The sensation sent a jolt right to Dick’s cock. He ground his cock against the wall, pressing it to find sweet friction, once, twice, and on the third, Peter caught his hips, holding him with a strong grip. 

“Patience, baby,” Peter whispered the words to the shell of Dick’s ears. 

Dick whimpered.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Peter landed a light kiss to Dick’s nape. His hand sneaked to the front of Dick’s pants, cupping Dick’s throbbing cock, squeezing it once to draw a moan from Dick. 

“Peter….”

“Mmmm. Yes, pretty boy? What do we say when we want something?”

Dick’s face burned, hot flush rising from his neck. Humiliation washed over him, and despite that, the word spilled from his lips, "P-please." 

"Good boy." Peter made short work of Dick’s belt. He pulled down the zipper, taking Dick's cock out and stroking it with a firm hand. 

Dick moved his hips, fucking into Peter's grip. The friction was heavenly. Dick could feel the tension building, his pleasure spiralling higher and higher. But Peter cut it short before it could crest. 

Dick gasped out a broken moan. 

"Trust me, Grayson," Peter said, lips moving along the skin at the side of Dick's neck. "You don't know me. But I've known you for a long time, and I won't hurt you." 

Dick couldn't parse the meaning of Peter's words. The majority of his blood had left his brain and, fuck, he needed to come. "_Please_." 

Peter plastered his body to Dick's back and Dick could feel the wet head of his cock making contact with the bare skin of Dick's ass. Dick shivered at the sensation. 

He thought he heard something snick, Peter bending over a little, then a kiss to the tip of Dick's ear. "Trust me." 

The next thing Dick knew, he felt something cold touching his groin. He looked down. The glint of steel was unmistakable. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

His high was crashing. Dick began to struggle, but Peter pressed him forward with his body. His mouth sucking a line of kisses from Dick's hairline near his nape and down to his shoulder. 

"Calm down," Peter whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you. You need to trust me." 

Peter pushed his hips forward, slotting his cock in between Dick's ass cheeks, his length sliding against Dick's skin, hot and still hard. The serrated edge of the knife was facing out, Peter ran the blunt edge along Dick's stomach, lifting his t-shirt with the knife. 

Dick was coming out of the calm space he was in. His skin tingled where the cold steel of the knife touched him. It turned him on. 

It was turning him on, and also scaring him the fuck out. 

Fuck this kid. 

"No," Dick said, his voice not as steady as he liked. 

"You like it, pretty boy. Look." Peter ran the knife over Dick's erection. Red and fully engorged, shiny with precome. The brush elicited a moan from Dick even as his stomach dropped. This was so fucked up and he barely knew the person behind him. 

"No, Peter." This time Dick managed a firmer tone. 

"Fuck. Alright." Peter flicked the knife away from Dick, storing it back to wherever he had hidden the knife. And even if he hadn't been sure earlier, now Dick knew with confidence Peter was carrying more than one knife on him. 

Jesus. 

"I'm sorry," Peter said. He kissed an apology to Dick's neck. "Next time. We'll shelve that for next time." 

_ Next time_. What the fuck was this kid even talking about? 

But Dick couldn't follow that line of thought, because Peter's hand was back on his cock, pumping him with purpose. Dick's need to come hadn't abated during the whole fiasco. 

He could feel Peter's cock sliding between the crack of his ass, the kid chasing his own orgasm. His breath warm and moist behind Dick. His body a hot line against him, as he used Dick's body.

Dick was overheated. He bit his lips, leaned his forehead on the cool tiles, his eyes closing on their own accord. 

When he came, Dick did so with a jolt. He groaned so loud, his voice reverberating through the whole toilet stall. And he couldn't care less. Not when Peter was still milking him. His rough hand gliding over Dick's cock and gripping the head when he too let out a groan against Dick's shoulder. A splash of hot come coated Dick's ass and lower back. 

Dick slid down to the floor as Peter took a step back, his own legs too weak to support his body. 

"That was a damn good fuck," Peter said. 

Dick glanced up at Peter. There was a twist to his smile and he was looking at Dick with the kind of predatory intensity that should be out of place in someone so young. And Dick knew what an image he must be, sitting on the floor with cooling come on his lower back, pants and underwear down to the middle of his thighs, his cock spent, limp against his thigh. 

"You'll see me again," Peter said. "I'll make sure of it."

Dick wanted to retort, say something along the line of their encounter being a one-off. Because Dick probably wouldn't even go to this club again as a patron. But Peter beat him to the punch. He opened the stall, barely avoiding Dick with the door, and _ left_. 

Without a glance back, without another word. He just left. Dick heard the pounding music of the club getting louder as Peter opened the door to the men's room and then subsided again as it closed. 

He didn't even bother to close the stall door, to allow Dick a shred of decency to the world. Though it was only his luck that the toilet was empty. 

Dick got up, precariously placing his legs underneath him again. He put himself together slowly, walked out to the row of sinks and braced himself at the counter. 

He looked into the mirror, seeing his fucked-out visage, his swollen lips and messy hair. The mark Peter had left throbbing at the back of his neck. 

Dick got what he'd wanted when he set out that night, but he wasn't sure he had been ready for Peter.

And, fuck, next time? Peter had sounded so sure. 

Dick washed his hands. If there really was a next time, Dick would have to teach Peter a lesson. 


End file.
